Offworlder

"TZZSSSSSHhhhhHhhtt-rotocol 9, initiating at 1500 hours. Subject C-V-19, batch 2."

Sterile white light momentarily blinded Clara, making her blink beadily. She had been at the facility for almost 7 months now, long enough to have become familiar with its procedures from the other men, women, and even children kept trapped here. It was all so complicated, so muddled, that she hardly knew what to believe. After all the things she had seen, there was little that seemed beyond the realm of reality.

What she DID know was that this was all some sort of government project, initiated after a series of extremely secret findings on Venus. For decades, the acidic, pressurized, and high-temperature surface of the planet had precluded terrestrial exploration. In recent years, breakthroughs in chemical coating and shielding technologies allowed for robots, and then even human-piloted mechs, to land and even spend days at a time on Venus safely. The planet was thought to be a potential source of rare and valuable minerals and fuels. Instead, whatever the government had found there definitely defied expectations.

Clara had heard all kinds of strange tales from the other people here. Vagrants, criminals, drug-addicts...all of them had been some form of undesirable or another, taken because they wouldn't be missed. In hushed tones, the prisoners told her of weeks of isolation in dark rooms, the monotony only broken by cold meals served in identical aluminum tins and occasional inspections by scientists and doctors in full-body suits and face-concealing mirrored hoods. Clara experienced this first hand after a while, put through a battery of physical tests, as well as ones that seemed like jokes. One steely-voiced scientist asked her to tell him what card he was thinking of, and another subjected her to a battery of invasive questions about everything from her diet to her family history. As a life-long foster child and later wandering bum, she didn't have much to tell on that front. When the government stooge showed her a picture of two people and asked her what she felt about her birth parents, Clara could only respond with a very confused silence. The thought that those might have been her real mother and father was both meaningless to her, and also profoundly disturbing. How would they have possibly been able to track them down, when Clara had been an anonymous abandon?

After that, Clara spent a lot of time doing nothing. The rest of the prisoners would talk, play word games, and otherwise try to fill empty time. Any sort of physical contact, even just a hand on the shoulder, was prohibited. Clara had once gotten solitary for three days for picking up a crying child. It was the kids who suffered the most from the no-contact rule, and her heart ached for the weepy, frightened things. This whole place stank of some kind of crazy coverup that would be the source of some FBI or CIA heads indictment a decade down the line, like the famous MKUltra stuff from way back in the 1950s, or the CLU Trials of the 2040s.

The strangest stuff came from the oldest residents. They told, in hushed tones, tales of being taken to a dim room. All of them described the same thing: a colossal black egg, glistening like an oil slick, nestled in the midst of a wreath of wires and sensors. Each person had a different story of what happened in that place, each more bizarre and awful than the last. Some simply sat there for hours. Others were told to eat certain foods. Some had to sing. Some were forced to strip and exercise until they passed out from exhaustion. Sometimes it was freezing cold or swelteringly hot inside. Some described being given increasingly insane doses of hallucinogens, opiates, and other drugs. Some, in broken tones, told of being strapped to tables and cut, bleeding freely as their screams fell on deaf ears. Whatever the scientists here were trying to accomplish, it seemed to have no rhyme or reason.

As her time in the facility lengthened, Clara began to both fear and wish to be the next one taken. It seemed that the longer you were in before you got selected, the worse the experience was. Some of the most recent victims reported electric shocks, burns, and even being kept awake in the chamber with the massive egg for days on end.

Finally, one day, it was her turn. Clara was taken to some kind of prep room, bathed, and ordered into a sort of white bodysuit. The rest of the time, the prisoner wore thin plasticky tunics and pants reminiscent of scrubs, so in truth it was actually kind of nice to feel actual cloth against her skin. Then she was taken into another room, where she was strapped to an X-shaped metal table and injected full of a rainbow's worth of serums and fluids. She had no idea what any of them were, and any questions were met with stony silence. A metallic taste grew in her mouth, and Clara began to sweat. Whatever they had given her was decidedly unpleasant. She could feel her heart rattling in her chest, and her limbs felt weirdly trembley. A growing sense of constricted panic was blossoming in her chest. It was like the feeling she got after a fight or a close call with the cops, but a hundred times worse. Clara began to tug insistently at her shackles, panting. Her eyes stung, but she seemed incapable of producing tears. It was like every drop of fluid in her body was pouring out through her pores. Clara began to swear, then yell, but the scientists only muttered to each other and fitted her with an array of sensors. When her struggling became more violent, more restraints were added around her thighs and shoulders, as she was coming close to breaking her own wrists and ankles with her thrashing.

Thoroughly secured, the workers left the room. When the lights flickered off, Clara was left to scream in the dark. It felt like hours, and she yelled herself into mute hoarseness before anything changed. A dull hum filled the room, and the table she was tied to lurched suddenly. A slit opened in the far wall, and the table slid smoothly toward it. Beyond the gap there was nothing but more darkness as far as Clara could tell with her limited view. On and on she went down this narrow metal shaft, to the point that she started feeling rather claustrophobic. Finally, the gurney came to a halt. A pause, and then brilliant white lights dazzled her. Bored voices hissed over the intercom, rattling off strings of letters and numbers that meant nothing to Clara's untrained ears. More suited and masked scientists, some with imposing-looking guns, were scattered around the room. And there, in the center, the infamous obsidian egg. It looked almost like a massive, rough-hewn gem, faceted and uneven, but overall a relatively even shape. Near the top was a crown of black spikes, like crystals. It must have been at least twenty-five feet across and easily half again that in height. Other than the beeps and hums of the machinery surrounding it, the object itself appeared inert. Clara imagined she could see some kind of glinting purple light at its heart, but that was more likely than not the product of whatever cocktail she had been shot up with.

After a few moments of busy activity, all the agents cleared out of the room. The intercom hissed to life again.

"Beginning stimulation process. Subject has been dosed with set L-2 at 1400 hours, reacting as normal. Elevated heart rate, elevated stress hormones. Sensors indicate beginnings of dehydration consistent with excessive diaphoresis. Brain activity in the amygdala is heavily elevated. Susceptibility to stimulus deemed ideal. Initiating procedure."

The bright lights vanished. Now there was only the sound of machines...and...? A soft clicking, insectoid and vaguely

wet

somehow, under the beep and hum of computers. Clara whipped her head to the side, trying to track it.

"H-hey!"

The clicking faded, and then resumed, closer, more insistent. It was accompanied by the sound of a scurrying

tak-tak-tak-tak-taktaktaktak,

as of someone (or some

thing

) with claws hurrying across a hard surface.

"HEY! There's something in here! Can you bastards hear me?! THERE'S SOMETHING IN HERE!"

there is n o t h i n g in the room with you

Clara spasmed, a swooping tingle not unlike what one experienced during vertigo running down her spine. She had heard something speak in her

mind.

The voice was distant, as though it were echoing up from the bottom of a well, yet simultaneously terribly intimate. Clara had the sense that if she just whipped her head around fast enough she might catch the speaker whispering in her ear.

th e y are trying to frighten you your mind and bo d y are full of chemicals

deceiving y o u r sen ses and muddying your thoughts

"Hello!? Who-who's there? Who are you?!"

There was no answer, and Clara's breathing seemed loud to her own ears. It was hard to tell if the voice was a hallucination of her own fevered mind, or another trick by the inhumane researchers. The idea that it was real was too frightening to even contemplate.

do not fear me we can help you we can help us all

Clara's eyes roved unseeing, imagining writhing demons in the dark. Monsters. But the voice was so cool and soothing, like a balm to her battered mind. It felt strange, but Clara was desperate for a lifeline. Anything to bring peace to her thoughts. The speaker, it seemed, could sense her frantic groping for a semblance of calm.

yes there you are be s t i l l in your heart speak to us

in your head

...

Hello?

we are here

Who are you?

we are uldra we com e from another world

You're whatever they found on Venus. The egg thing. You're an alien.

yes

What do they want with you? With me? What is going on? I'm so confused, I can't think straight. You can get us out?

your thoughts are scattered in the wind by their chemical craft we can break us free they wish to a w a k e n us from our dormancy as our... shell... is im pe ne trable to them clara clara we can

save

us but we need your help willingly you must help but you are so afraid

open to us

Clara gasped, her mind overwhelmed with sights and sounds. Between the confusion brought on by the drugs administered to her and the entirely alien experience of having someone speak to her telepathically, it was all a bit much. Clara felt faint. Uldra...had somehow transferred its memories to her. It was like a dream where you just

know

something, without any explanation. Clara could see images and feel things associated with them, she could know instantly the exact way Uldra had felt at that moment in time. She could feel her own sense of identity blurring as the flood of information kept coming.

Humans had found life on Venus, something they had not expected. Uldra and its kind were few in number, immensely long-lived and physically hardy, designed to survive the brutal environment of their home planet. Things had gone predictably awry, and Uldra's kinfolk had driven off the humans through violence. Uldra had been wounded, and retreated into this husk form to recover, but humans had returned and essentially kidnapped it. Uldra had almost died upon entering Earth's atmosphere, something the government officials tasked with transporting it had clearly counted on. It was only the stasis sleep it was in that protected it, providing speeded healing and adaptation. Its survival, however, was far from guaranteed, as it had been locked away in this facility ever since. Subjected to tests day in, day out, Uldra had stubbornly remained uncommunicative and dormant ever since, waiting for a chance to escape. Clara, it seemed, was that chance.

However...the particulars of what this escape would entail were rather...frightening, to say the least. Uldra was very insistent that only willing participation would create the necessary circumstances, but...essentially, they needed to mate. Uldra could not survive for long in Earth's atmosphere outside of stasis without modifying its genome, which it could only do through sex. Uldra admitted that it was not confident this would even work with a human, as its own species was so entirely unlike Clara's, but it was willing to try. If Clara, too, proved willing, Uldra would risk it all for the escape attempt. Uldra said that the researchers had no idea Uldra's kind were sapient, and that Clara could use this to her advantage to ease the proceedings. If she told them what Uldra wanted, but not why, they would no doubt eagerly encourage the coupling out of scientific interest, morbid curiosity, and just plain relief at finally having

something

happen.

When Clara idly thought '

Why me...?'

, Uldra seemed to feel...something like embarrassment? According to it, her particular brain was built just so to be receptive to Uldra's thoughts without negative consequences. And...Uldra had liked the scent of her. The idea of some kind of ridiculous alien monster being

shy

made Clara burst into wild, sudden laughter. She would have restrained herself, but the scientists thought she was bugging out on drugs anyway, so what the hell?

What would this...mating...entail? Will it hurt?

No, Uldra informed her, in fact in theory it would be pleasant for her. Uldra would be learning to match human biochemistry throughout, and releasing a mix of pheromones and chemicals designed to heighten arousal. It would be as gentle as possible, it promised, considering their size difference.

Size difference? What do you look like?

w e l l . . .

Again, that vague shyness, a reluctance to frighten her. Uldra, as it turned out, looked much like a massive spider. Clara couldn't suppress a shudder, and felt a wave of apologetic sympathy. She, in turn, felt surprisingly guilty. This inter-planetary spider horror was being nicer to her than most humans in her life ever had been. She felt bad for her instinctive revulsion. She tried to focus on the image presented to her. With a little consideration, Uldra was not so bad. It didn't have hairs, like earth spiders. Instead, it was all smooth and shiny black, glassy like the egg that it currently occupied. It had a smaller, more angular head, more like a wasp. In addition to its primary six legs, it had six more smaller ones clasped close under its body. The whole of it scintillated blackly, gleaming with deep purples, blues, and greens. Iridescent, like spilled gasoline on asphalt. Uldra's many multifaceted eyes were black and seemed to glow from within.

...Okay, okay. That's...not so bad.

we can feel the deep genetic fear inside you but we appreciate your kindness

Was the space-spider being vaguely sardonic? Wonders never ceased. Clara thought for a little while, weighing her options. Sometimes, people she had seen here would disappear. She very much doubted they were being sent home with an apology card. The only reason you used the fringe of society for your sick experiments was if you wanted to be able to make people go away without consequence. Her future looked grim; there was no way she could escape on her own, and the chances of being freed looked mighty slim. Uldra might be her only chance of getting out alive, and as far as psychic cosmic aberrations went, it seemed pleasant enough.

"H-hey? Science guys? I think your egg is talking to me."

The intercom hissed on instantly. Clara felt a vague, contemptuous anger. Of course pleading and screaming in terror had no response, but news about their precious pet experiment? Ugh. She laughed, the sound forced and humorless, but that worked for the situation. It took little effort to sound like she was scared and trying to hide it.

"I think it wants to fuck."

There were a few tense heartbeats of silence.

"How is it speaking, C-V-19? Is it using human speech?"

"No...I don't think it's capable of that. It's not really talking, more like...beaming horny feelings at me? I don't know. How would a dog express amorous intent toward a leg?"

"...Stand by. Initiating protocol 17."

The lights came on, not the bright floodlights of before but a dim glow. Clara was grateful, as it was easy on her eyes. The intercom was still on, but it sounded like the researchers had moved away from it. Even so, the snippets of their conversation drifted through the mic.

"...

let the thing fuck her? I have to admit, I'm kind of curi..."

"-anything at this point. At least it's

some

kind of response..."

"...starting to think it was dead after all. Alright, yes, let's. Do we have..."

"-should make proceedings go more smoothly. Might bring some home to the missus if you..."

They appeared to have come to an agreement. After a moment, there was a tinny beep, and a delicate robotic arm unfolded from under the table. It extended a thin needle and jabbed Clara in the bicep, making her wince. Twice, something cold and prickly flooded into her veins, followed by a steady drip of cool fluid that made Clara shiver.

"Following indications of an intent to mate, subject C-V-19 was dosed with a clearing mix to remove any remaining traces of L2, and then dosed with set C6 instead. Rehydration initiated through saline."

What "set C6" did, Clara supposed she would have to wait to find out. She supposed what was flooding into her arm now was saline, to alleviate the dehydration she was supposedly experiencing. She

had

been sweating a lot, hadn't she? She drily thought to herself that it was no wonder Uldra had smelled her even in the depths of a fucking magic alien coma.

n o t magic but you smell nice anyway if it's any comfort

Comforting, indeed. As Clara lay there, she began to be aware of a strange tingling in her fingers and toes. The cotton body suit felt strangely rough all of a sudden, as though her skin had doubled in sensitivity. Her thoughts felt a bit wooly, languid and slow. Most bizarrely, Clara could feel the uncomfortably insistent pressure of arousal growing between her legs. Of course. "C6" must be a batch of aphrodisiacs. The saline drip was withdrawn, but Clara barely noticed. In the last 20 minutes, she had found herself increasingly horny. She could feel her pussy getting wet, and the bodysuit seemed to rasp like sandpaper against her hard and suddenly incredibly sensitive nipples. Clara was of a small frame, compact and wiry. Lots of running would do that to you. Her legs were pleasantly firm with muscle, and she had a flat stomach and pert, smallish breasts capped with quarter-sized little pink nipples like pencil erasers. She kept her black hair cut jaggedly short out of convenience, though in her time here it had grown out enough to brush her shoulders. Clara had a fast as hard and angular as her body, though when she smiled it would soften to reveal a radiant, energetic sort of beauty. Despite being only 26, her blue eyes were nestled amongst crow's feet born of both hard living and a surprising amount of laughter for such. Freckles dusted the bridge of her pointed, upturned nose.

Her attention was drawn sharply to the great egg when a resounding crack rang out like a gunshot.

"It's working! The creature is finally stirring! Are the cameras recording? Make sure all of them are recording!"

The scientist sounded breathless with excitement, his eagerness almost unseemly. For her own part, trepidation and vague fear warred with hope and arousal in Clara's mind. The massive structure before her had cracked in three places, jagged lines running from the crest to the floor. They burst open explosively, taking out a good portion of the equipment near it. Shards of glassy eggshell smashed to the floor. A long, delicate leg unfolded from the wreckage. Uldra was even bigger than Clara imagined, unfolding to stand even taller than the egg. The chamber was dwarfed by its size, easily 35 feet in height. Its sharp legs seemed too thin to support its mass, and they rang out like bells when they struck the steel floor. Even as Clara began to question how this arrangement could possibly work, the concoction inside her was insisting that it

would

, somehow. A horny mammal knew no obstacles to sex.